I cant carry your bones and my own
But I will because it hurts more to be alone
What you think of me is my view of myself
You design my skeleton not me or anyone else
Now that I no longer carry your bones
I hate myself wherever I go
When I look in the mirror I am haunted by my own skeleton
Disgusted by the bones you depicted that I am forced to live in
You discarded all the parts of my skeleton worth keeping
Now I understand my well being was not what you were seeking
I am now living with a crafted skeleton and chiseled bones
And your words will never leave me alone
I VE BEEN WAITING HERE A WHILE;
WITH IS HUGH BROAD SILLY SMILE;
LIPS ARE CHAPED AND MY MOUTH IS DRY;
JUST TO SEE IF YOU WOULD STOP BY;
KNOWING THIS IS YOUR FAVORITE PLACE;
I THOUGHT I GET A MOMENT TO, SLIP INTO YOUR GAURDED SPACE;
DREAMY EYES AND CHISLED LOOKS, SNACHED OUT FROM MY DREAM BOOKS;
WAITING TO CATCH A GLIMPS OF YOUR INTREGING FACE;
I'VE BEEN SITTING IN THIS SPOT, GEE...., MY BODY IS GETTING HOT;
MY EYES ARE SEARCHING EVERY WHERE;
IN THE CARS, AT THE LIGHTS, AT THE BUS STOP TO THE LEFT AND ON RIGHT;
THIS IS NOTHING LIKE YOU WOULD DO, TO BRING ATTENTION TO WHAT I DO;
EVEN THOUGH YOU HAVE NO CLUE, WHY..., I'M SITTING HERE WAITING FOR YOU,
IN THIS CHAIR OF SELF CONTENT, STAIRING TO THE TABLE YOU DAILY SIT;
EVERY DAY AT ONE O'CLOCK YOU EAT YOUR LUCH AND CONFERENCE TALK;
I OBSERVE ALL YOUR MOVES, TO YOUR FAVORITE BOWL OF SOUP.
PLEASE LET THIS BE MY DAY, YOU LOOK AT ME AND SAY, HELLO.
Would that I could be like you
statue of marble cream
a chisled direction rivaling perfection
from some nameless artisan's dream.
People come to see your beauty
they smile and walk away
Never to get close enough to touch you
never too long to stay
You feel not the darkness
nor rainfall cold and wet
never knowing heartache
of which you cannot forget.
A tear will never fall from your eyes
nor a sob escape your breast
you'll never hear a lovers goodbye
or have a spirit at unrest
STALLION
Flowing mane and tail,
Gleaming coat, chisled muscles,
So magnificent
Judy Ball
There is nothing like watching a Prince of the Prairie.
Tall and beautiful the Christmas tree,
Arrived home with care,
A strong stand anchored the tree,
There was a beautiful angel on the top,
Snowflakes of white,
Different Christmas balls with snow scenes,
Pretty red and green ribbons,
Tiny gold bells that chime,
Wooden decorations chisled carefully,
A royal manger scene,
Favorite Santa and reindeer,
A tall snowman,
Wooden gold stars,
Santas of different shapes and sizes,
A blessing for many days of Christmas,
God's miracle to us all.
Author: Gwen Meyer-Erlach Schutz
sometimes they appear effusively ebullient
need curtailing, pruning
succinctness of clarity demands simple concepts
a fresh way to express tired vernacular
see contrasts that light and dark embody
simile is like a bridge, connecting this to that
ideas behind envisioned conditions
what is seen, what is known
cupid's arrow finding its mark
carefully selected properly place alliterations age
as fine wine, appreciating moments of the tongue
if cramped, forced to salute like a new recruit
become ill fitting as a six fingured glove
noticeable as a red light on easy street
onomatopoea telegraphs transparent thought
Ohhh, moment of culmination cry the lovers
adjust concepts, fit themes, clarify voice
say meaningful words of intuitive insight
gamble fearlessly, search for elusive quarries
loadstones of vocaulary
prized like adamantine crystals in kinberlite
you can have it all, heart's desire
etched tablets that tell of word's meaning
chisled till they're Rosetta stones
It's brilliant how one seguays into the next, flashing on the
pennon of this new-age attempt to plagerise the etch-a-sketch, and
if you watch closely, if
you count your bits and bites, your digital copies of digital recordings transferred from
magnetic tape and stones chisled with ideograms and heiroglyphic symbols-
maybe you'll find that in a hundred years we will no longer express ideas in vowels and
consonents, clumsy representations of the noises made by oscillating tissues and shifting
palletes-
Prepare to discard your medium for storage
your verbatim verbal fencing weapon is dulled and oxidized-
prepare to shed truth and solidarity.
Press any key for ecstasy. (5.99aminuteforthefirstfiveminutes)
History’s unpopular these days,
No one cares where Blues shot Greys,
Or where the tons of cannonballs were kept.
Union marker stands aloof, alone,
Monument of bronze and chisled stone,
And students giggle where the Northern troops once swept.
Finally here!
Life had begun nine months before,
when a miracle took place in the womb.
No details, just one sperm fertilizing one egg.
Now to finally see light.
Big eyes staring at me.
Him wondering! Me wondering!
What are first thoughts?
Who can say but God?
Here, you hold him!
But he's awfully small.
So cute and almost bald.
So many wild roller coaster rides.
Who would have ever thought
that he would be the Greek God that he is today?
So chisled and fine.
Any model would be jealous.
College!
After that what??
Life's like that!
Did that happen yesterday?
Or has it really been twenty years?
My face touched your petal
As I awakened to the scent of you
I remembered this fragrance of some would say like morning dew
It was light yet suttle with a hint of sweet
Delicate like foliage but color of honey feet
As I held you close I gently rubbed your chisled hips
I could still feel the movement from those soft and tender lips
How they felt as they caressed my hand
Pleasant, kind and meaningful unlike any other plan
That you may have set for us to walk this land
As I smelled of your petal I knew I would travel
Down this road of confusion and of loving you
Once bleek even scary but given numerous chances
I enjoyed our love of tantric, word and spiritual dances
Your moves of tantric paralyzed my soul
Its so easy to get caught up in you and completely lose control
I watched you and needed you more to be in the depths of my world
As our petals touched in motion aroused by our love swirl.
We two amidst the wastelands walked
Where heroes fell and mad ghosts leapt.
There slaughtered angels we beheld
With trembling eyelids moist yet brave,
Alone, so drear the gathering Dark!
And you, small vessel, cracked with grief-
By storm,no less assailed...
From haunted trails through orchards thorns,
Their bitter fruit by tears well suckled,
We'd tarried toiled and tasted much
At Sorrow's depthless winepress,
'Til chanced our thusly armored souls
'Pon fated mystic moon-tossed fields
To each the other greet...
I'd long not heard the fountains speak
From obscure and violet banks
Nor known the breath of Dawnibg's blush
Caress my worn, care-chisled cheek, but then-
But then! Your voice, a breeze
Like Day's first sigh a'borning,
That celestial, sweet sad-burdened song
Became my revelie...
Because of my rugged features, chisled by my life's
experiences, you should not fear me.
Because I babble on like some kind of lunatic, when I
first meet you, I'm sane. Your beauty enchants me.
Because of my macho walk and stand, I'm not
looking for trouble.
Don't judge me by my clothes! I'm confortable.
To really understand me, take a deep look into my
soul, you'll see a whole different world than what
you expected.
as the waves crash
up against the chisled rocks
their echoing sounds resonate
the bruises of a battered heart
we find peace
within the chanting messsage
the whispers soothe
to heal our soul
listening to the matters of the heart
as the world outside
bellows with agony and pain
here we release our tears
into the depths of the sea
like the ripples in the ocean waters
our wounds bleed
seeking solace
our being unites with the divine
a timeless ritual
to comfort the mattersof the heart
as we search for strength
the glow of the sun
leads us to calm waters
united with rhythm of nature
we rest in tranquility
holding unto the hands of wisdom
our wounds are medicated
resting in peaceful waters
we are back home
touching the matters of the heart
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